


Sunlight

by Zebooboo



Series: Wasteland [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, The Other Side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 00:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebooboo/pseuds/Zebooboo
Summary: Ghost still wasn't sure if his Guardian was a Hunter or a Warlock. She didn't seem to care either way, merely shrugged when he brought it up."I'll still be Schala before I am either."He had no answer to that.(For what she said was true.)





	Sunlight

The scorching sun shining in her eyes was the first thing Schala-2 understood in this new life. That she hated sand with a passion, gritty and microscopic and got between her joints and crunched was third.

But her Ghost chatting up a storm in excitement before she even realised sounds existed, took second.

He had been so ecstatic he didn't realise his brand new Guardian was watching him and then twisting around to check for something only she seemed to hear.

The beach was empty, save for them, but there was an odd chattering in her ears. The small antennas at the sides of her head perked and fell every rime she picked up a sound. It was so faint she couldn't distinguish words.

It took a minute but the Ghost realised that his Guardian was busy with something odd.

"Is, is something the matter?"

"...I think...I hear something.."

(Ghost winced a bit at her voice, it was gritty and so very faint. He really hoped it would get better with time because while he could revive her, he couldn't change her exo programming or hardware.)

He scanned the area for any iut of place sounds but it seemed only the wind and the waves where with them.

"I'm not picking up anything unusual. Do you want to take a look?"

They would waste the rest of the evening's fading light searching the entire stretch of beach and surrounding brush for a source of whisperings only she could hear.

It was dark when Ghost convinced her to slow down and rest. That maybe it was just an odd piece of her internal mechanisms stuck on a loop. Maybe some rest, some sleep might help.

Only then did she ask what he was, why she couldn't remember anything other than her name.

("I'm a Ghost. Your Ghost, and you are a Guardian. You've been dead for a very long time, but I brought you back! So don't worry if you don't understand a lot of things for now, you'll learn!"

"Why did you bring me... back?"

"Because the Light, the Traveler chose you. You can use the Light to fight back the Darkness and the enemies of humanity, Bring about a better future."

"There's a war?"

"For many years now. The Guardians have been pushing back threats with great success too, the last few decades!"

"Hmm...")

They moved away from the beach in the morning. Schala could still hear the whispers, but only sometimes.

\---

"Don't you have a... a name?"

"Well I could have chosen one, but it never seemed like a good time. You can call me anything you want!"

"Names are important, aren't they?"

"I suppose?"

"Then you need to chose a good one."

"Choose one? You think I should?"

"Do you want to be called Ghost all your life?"

"I, I don't know. A lot of Ghosts never get a name. I guess I never thought seriously about getting one."

"You should."

"I will Guardian."

"Schala."

"Oh, sorry."

"Hmm...")

\---

In the end the whispers left only after Schala had pulled at the Light of the sun to burn the face off a roving Fallen Dreg.

Ghost had thought her a Warlock then.

After they had scavenged the Dreg's supplies of a wire rifle and a few tripmine grenades, Ghost started telling the exo about the Last City.

She showed interest, asked about its history. And he told her, about how the Iron Lords helped build it and the Titans erect walls around it.

Told her about the Battle of Six Fronts, the siege the Fallen had layed to the City but failed to conquer. About Twilight Gap and how close to defeat they had come if not for the bravery of few.

Told her about the Vanguard and the Speaker and the new Iron Lord spearheading a new Age of Triumph.

When he said they would have to go there eventually she hesitated, her stride faltered and halted. All her excitement seemed to drain.

She shifted uncomfortably in place and said in a quiet voice, eventually.

He wasn't so sure about her being a Warlock anymore.

\---

It took weeks and a lot of backtracking and killing and dying but they managed to reach central Europe at last.

So far Schala had expanded her arsenal, seemed to favour a sniper rifle and a pair of broken scimitars she lifted from a Fallen Captain she killed.

Ghost still wasn't sure if his Guardian was a Hunter or a Warlock. She didn't seem to care either way, merely shrugged when he brought it up.

"I'll still be Schala before I am either."

He had no answer to that.

(For what she said was true.)

\---

She asked him if he had thought of a name yet, one night sitting in front of a small fire.

He didn't know what to say. That he didn't mind either way? That nothing he had thought of during his years searching for her had ever clicked? That he would be happy with anything she fancied calling him?

Rotating his shell in agitation he told her as such. She hummed in her faint voice and said nothing.

\---

Half a year has passed. They were still scouring the EDZ, skirting the border with Old Russia when Schala heard the whispers again.

Only this time they were insistent. That night she woke up screaming, frantically clutching her Ghost to her chest mumbling incoherently.

Apologies and pleads and curses spilling in a hushed voice. She didn't seem to hear Ghost talking to her for a long time.

When she finally calmed down enough to understand that he was speaking, asking if she was alright, if it was a dream or something else, she didn't know to answer.

She didn't remember what see saw, or what she heard but the sinking feeling in the pits of her stomach was enough for her.

It was a few minutes after staring at the smoldering coals of her fire that Schala realised something was off with her Light.

That it wasn't warmth that leapt to her fingertips when she asked. But a chill, like an old, musty wind creeping down her forearm.

She shook it off, watched purple Light drip from her hands, viscous and strong. She would wait until the dawn to try to call Light again. Needing the sun's heat at her face to remember the feeling of the Solar well in her chest and not the edge of the Void creeping into her mind.

\---

The Void liked to show her things. Possibly of the future. Maybe of the past. She never remembered enough. But she was getting closer and closer to catching clear glimpses every time.

Ghost was worried. The last time someone started making prophecies, it had been a Vanguard Commander and had got exiled. Schala wasn't even definitively in a class, what would happen to her?

She told him to worry more about choosing a name. She had the visions under control.

(She didn't even believe it herself when she said that, but what else could she say about this? What else could she do?)

\---

They celebrated a year together in the remains of a Fallen camp. The aliens had been staying in a small hangar, in the outskirts of a small city's ruins. They had cleared them out.

They were in Northern Europe, it was cold and had rich history. Schala asked if he knew any stories. He knew little, told her everything he could find in the databases.

She picked a name for him, out of the archives. Said he'd been taking too long and she'd grown tired of calling him Ghost.

(He was just happy she had picked him a name, it became more meaningful that way, rather than him picking any old drivel as a moniker.)

\---

Schala and Tyr spent some time scavenging for parts to repair the wing of a ship in the hangar. Figured it was about time they went to the Tower.

Schala wasn't excited the same way Tyr was, but that was ok. She felt more like a Hunter these past few weeks. Sometimes she was more like a Warlock.

(And one rare time she had punched a cloaked Vandal so hard she twisted its head. Tyr had almost feared she would go Titan.)

\---

In the end she became enamoured with the City. With the colourful banners, the friendly waves from other Guardians rushing by, the buzz of activity in every nook and cranny. Even if the crowds and the people made her nervous and jittery.

But that came after being sat down by the Vanguard who tried to puzzle her out, try and put her in a neat little box and call it a day.

Tell us about your Light, do you like stabing things, can you maybe float, do you use those knifes, maybe punching is your thing, do you like hitting from distance or up close?

(And what about cloaks? They seem unwieldy, loud and long enough to constantly be in the way.)

The Warlock, Ikora was rubbing a hand at her temple and the exo Hunter was leaning against the table trying to pull a thread to follow. The Titan with starlight under his skin looked too severe for Schala to understand what he was thinking.

She was tired and dirty and not at all amused about the situation. She was what she was.

After it appeared they had drained all their questions, a heavy hand clasped her shoulder, making her jump.

"If asking cannot give us an answer, maybe a round in the Crucible will give us an idea."

The man had no business being so _silent_  and then so _l_ _oud_.

"You think a few punches will get her to jump in a class?"

(The exo Vanguard seemed to be full of quips.)

"Presented with a challenge will bring out more of her potential Cayde."

"It will be a better solution than going in circles, I will admit."

(The Warlock seemed to be fighting a mounting headache, Schala could sympathise.)

"Crucible?"

(She wanted to know _what_  it was they wanted to throw at her.)

They all turned to look at her, she suddenly felt self-conscious.

"The Crucible is a place for Guardians to pit themselves against others, fight against the odds. To better themselves and prepare for the future."

(Oh, so they wanted to drop her in an arena and throw stuff _at_  her. Didn't seem very original.)

"Do call our live demonstrator Cayde, while I prepare a suitable arena."

The Hunter seemed to freeze for a moment and then shrug to himself.

She was vaguely worried.

\---

The Hunter kept stealing glances at her knives. Kept looking and looking and looking again.

At some point she got tired of seeing him crane his neck oddly so he can look at the door and her both and just went to stand next to him. She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly.

He chuckled sheepishly.

"Got caught ey?"

If she had eyebrows they would be really high. Instead she cocked her head to the side and huffed, she honestly didn't feel like talking anymore.

(Her voice wasn't rough anymore, but remained just as faint as the first day she lived again. Repeating herself had become aggravating now that she talked with people other than Tyr.)

"How good are you with them?"

"I survived with them."

"...That's one way to look at it."

"Your point?"

Cayde took a step back, looked her up and down, really took her in. She felt like a piece of meat, made her uncross her arms and rest her hands on her belt, close to the blades strapped to her thighs.

The Hunter raised his hands slowly next to his head.

"I just want to know if I will be able to trust you with some missions I need done. Know I won't send you out and then call you KIA after a month."

He let his hands falls and there was a minute change in his stance. It made her both wary and relaxed. Her hands left her belt.

"Why me? I'm not even in one of your classes."

"Doesn't matter at this point. We seem all nice and collected yeah? We're running on fumes. I need people out there to see for me, be my eyes. Our eyes. You where out there alone for over a year. Most new Guardians get here in less than a week."

Now she was intrigued. It didn't look too much like a new Age of Triumph like Tyr had said.

("I have to admit, I haven't been in the City for decades."

"That so?"

"I'm... sorry?"

"S'alright, I just didn't know what to expect when we got here."

"Neither did I.")

"And?"

"If you're good with knives I got a bet for you."

"Speak."

\---

They threw an Iron Lord at her.

Tyr was terrified for her.

She just steadied her sniper and took careful aim.

(And if there was a faint whisper in her ear with dire warnings stuck on repeat she ignored it.)

\---

He shot her face with an arrow. A Void _arrow_.

She wanted to burn herself out and then toss him in the flames of her remains.

Schala shot him with a sword.

\---

He was angry, she heard.

He felt angry _for_  her, she heard.

He felt betrayed, she heard.

He thought he was getting left behind, she heard.

She remembered nothing of what she heard, every time Tyr brought her back.

She was weary of him, when he offered a hand.

But the Void in him was kind.

(And it left welts on her that stung but they weren't meant for her.)

The Iron Lord brought them back to the Tower and he apologised.

\---

Shaxx declared her a Warlock. Ikora appeared satisfied. Cayde sighed almost dramatically.

Dawnblade they called her. It didn't sound bad.

Tyr was happy for her abd she pulled him into a nuzzle when he flickered into existence.

It was all the same to her.

She brought the knives to Cayde, who gave her an appraising look and closed her fingers over the handles when she offered them.

"You decide what you wanna do with them. He won't take them back from me anyway."

The newly dubbed Warlock watched as the Vanguard peeked over her shoulder to the Iron Lord. There was a strain between them and she was sure it wasn't over the blades.

And seeing defeat overtake him as he watched the other leave the room, Schala felt like she had made a mistake. Maybe she shouldn't have taken that bet.

**Author's Note:**

> here's my other baby
> 
> she brings a whole other slew of problems to the table


End file.
